


Until the Devil's Turned to Dust

by bamelot89



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Supernatural
Genre: M/M, abaddon is the big bad, au: the angels never fell, but past for star trek???, hunter!trek, near future for spn, supernatural universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 19:34:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bamelot89/pseuds/bamelot89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Decades in the future, Team Free Will has gone down in history and Abaddon's war for Hell wages on.  Humanity has been catching more than just miniscule glimpses of the supernatural world, and there's a newly formed agency dedicated to protecting man from things that go bump in the night:  the Hunting Division, aka HD.<br/>But as more Hell is unleashed on Earth and monsters become bolder, the HD and the underground hunting community dwindle.  An idea is proposed to put together an elite team that, based on intricate profiling, a series of tests, and simulation hunts, would work together flawlessly.  But situations aren't always ideal, and sometimes flawless can't always be achieved...flawlessly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

PROLOGUE

 

Outside Gravity, Iowa  
March 12, 2015

 

            There were a hell of a lot more than the six demons they’d been expecting.  Castiel, Dean, and Sam might’ve been able to handle the additional numbers anyway, had one of the sons of bitches not lit up a circle of holy fire around Cas.  That was what wound up doing them in.

Dean stabbed his way through four demons, trying to get to Cas and break the circle, but a fifth caught him off-guard and practically gave him whiplash while another landed a solid blow to his gut.  He swung and barely nicked skin before his arm was twisted behind his back, accompanied by a crunching sound and a pain that shot through his bones, red hot in contrast to the frigid March air.

He heard Sam shout his name, but before he could turn his head fully, a fist knocked it in the opposite direction.  His mouth tasted like it was full of pennies and—shit, that black-eyed dick had actually knocked out a tooth.

An audible _thud_ from something hitting the ground distracted him from the ache in his jaw, and Dean whipped his head around to look, no demon stopping him this time.  In fact, almost all of them had their attention in one direction; standing over Sam was Abaddon, red hair dancing like fire in the breeze.  She stomped a boot on the hand Sam held an angel blade in, and Dean watched his brother’s face contort in distress and fingers unclench from around the handle.  Abaddon grabbed his collar and yanked him up onto his knees.

“Sam and Dean,” she said with a crimson grin.  “Both of your on your knees at the same time, finally.  And even the little bird.  Delightful!”

“If he’s such a little bird, why are you keeping him locked up?”  Dean spat out a mouthful of blood.  “His _little_ claws worrying you?”

Abaddon rolled her head to stare at Dean.  “He can be a nuisance,” she said dismissively.  “But I think you and your brother should be worried about him right now.”  She gave a pointed nod to one of the two dozen demons around them.  “He’s a little defenseless in that circle.”

Just as her sentence ended, a screech that only an angel could make erupted from Dean’s left.  In all his time with Cas, he’d never heard him scream like this, not with his true voice.  The scariest part was that Dean could see no visible damage.  Beside the ring of holy fire, he noticed one demon on its knees, and another keeping a cruel looking knife buried in its shoulder.  He gave it a twist and Cas shrieked again.

“ _Stop!_ ” Dean shouted.  The two demons holding him squeezed his arms tighter.  “Stop!”

Abaddon glided toward Castiel and the two demons.  “Neat trick, isn’t it?  I bet you haven’t seen anything like it before.”

The clench of Dean’s jaw must’ve confirmed her guess.

“It’s an old trick,” she explained.  “Before your time.  Lilith’s idea, actually.  You knew Lilith.”  She briefly looked back to Sam.  “You especially, right Sam?  See, Paul here is like…a celestial voodoo doll.”

“You can’t link a demon to an angel like that,” Sam said, struggling against eh demons keeping him on his knees.

Abaddon shrugged.  “Deny it if you want.  I’m not going to explain the intricacies of it, but I will say the pain is intensified tenfold for poor Castiel.  And his vessel takes none of it, it all goes straight to his grace.  Can you imagine?  It would be like having your soul stabbed, ten times, all at once, all in the same place.”  And she knew the two brothers knew that feeling.  She’d found out about their time in Hell, the things that had been done to them.

She flicked a wrist in the direction of the living voodoo doll and the demon yanked the knife out and plunged it into his back.  That sent Cas to his hands and knees, body rigid.  The volume of his screams were increasing, but there was nothing Dean could do.  None of the demons looked at all bothered by the sound, and Dean bitterly guessed it was due to some other “old trick” the knight knew.

“You know what the best part about this is?” she asked rhetorically after the noise died down.  “I get to be the one to prove the Winchesters aren’t invincible.  Not a single monster on Earth could get rid of you.  Not Heaven, not Purgatory, not even the apocalypse!  But I did it,” she said with content.

She raised her arms, like she was about to start conducting a symphony.  She shot Dean a slow-spreading smile and snapped her fingers on each hand.

Simultaneously, Dean heard a sickening snap and the world around him was suddenly filled with light.

“ _NO!_ ”

When he lunged, the demons let him go and, not expecting that, he fell to his hands and knees at Abaddon’s feet.  On his right was his brother on the ground, neck twisted nearly all the way around.  On his left, Cas was crumpled, one arm limply stretched outside the ring of holy fire.

No.  No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

His mouth formed brokenly around the shape of his brother’s name, but no sound came out, and he felt as if his head was still filed with the light of Castiel’s dying grace, and he couldn’t even touch either of them, he couldn’t try to shake them awake, his hands felt empty and useless, and for half a second he wasn’t able to even breathe, but then some unearthly force rushed through him and he let out a cry as he tackled Abaddon to the ground, their limbs tangling together.  She flipped him over, straddling his hips, and pinned his wrists to the ground.  He caught a glimpse of the knife as it slid out from her sleeve.

She leaned down, lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, “I wanted you to watch.”


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER ONE  


Riverside, Iowa  
October 2, 2042

 

            Things to remember:  don’t get in a bar fight with three guys that are twice as big as you.  Actually, don’t get in a fight with three guys twice as big as you, and especially don’t get in a bar fight, because the “bar” part means you’re probably drunk, if not totally wasted.  Then again, so are the other three guys, so why not?

Jim knew his logic was flawed, but his current state of mind led him to not care how much sense his mind was making right then.  He should never have called the guy cupcake.  He was _huge_ for god’s sake, and had two wingmen.  But the alcohol in his bloodstream thought it would be a laugh.

The nickname earned him what he was sure would be a lovely shiner by the end of the night, and he retaliated by ramming the guy into a table.  That got other people up and moving out of the way in a real hurry.  Cupcake’s two pals didn’t waste any time joining in the fight, and in no time at all it was just a wail-on-Jim party.  Not that he’d ever admit that, and he did get in a few decent punches, considering.  The three guys would’ve kept at it, too, if not for a commanding voice that said for everyone—no, _ordered_ everyone—to “get outta here.”

Jim stayed where he was, lying on his back on a table, not ready to move yet.  When he opened his eyes, the bar was empty and a blurred face towering above him gradually came into focus.

“Son, what kind of shit idea did you have to get into this situation?”

Jim groaned.  “Who cares?”  Who even was this guy?

The man shrugged, but not sloppily.  It took Jim an few seconds more than it would’ve had he been sober to notice the guy was wearing a suit, which was a little weird at this hour  He was on the older side; graying hair, wrinkles around the eyes.  …Or were those wrinkles?  Jim wasn’t sure he could trust his eyesight that much at the moment.  “Your father might have.”

Jim froze momentarily before sitting up to stare steadily at the man.  “My father’s dead.”

The guy took a seat at the abandoned bar.  “Unfortunately.  George Kirk was a good man.  Good heart, good at his job.”

“You knew him?”

“I worked with him.  For almost two years.”

Jim gave a short, humorless laugh.  “You knew him longer than me.  Why are you here?”

“Passing through, looking for new recruits.”

“Obviously, I mean, what are you doing _here_ , in this bar, talking to me.”

The man—Jim assumed him to be HD if he’d worked with his father—repeated himself.  “Looking for new recruits.”

Jim all-out laughed at that.  “Right.  Me.  No, I don’t think so.”

“Look, son.  Your dad was a great hunter.  He saved nearly three dozen lives the night he died—both civilian and fellow hunters.  If you are anything like him, you would do great in HD.  Go through the program in two years—“

“I thought it was four.”

“We’ve had to crunch things.  You know how it’s getting to be out there.”

“I know you guys aren’t helping as much as you’d like to think.”

“Our numbers are low.  We need more people, and we need people with this stuff in their blood.  I know your mother raised you to be able to defend yourself, and I know your IQ is sky-high.  You would be a more than decent agent compared to the people we’ve got now.  Even if your execution is terrible, your knowledge alone gives you a big advantage.”

“Look, man, why don’t you go talk to my brother, Sam.  He was always the better son.”

“Your brother has a life, Jim.  He’s settled down, has a job, a girl.  Even if I wanted to uproot him, he wouldn’t be willing.”

A girl.  Huh.  Jim hadn’t been aware of that.  “Sorry,” he said, dropping his feet down off the table.  “I’m sure there are plenty of other candidates.  Ask them to join your coffin-bound crew.”

“Haven’t you ever wanted to do something with your life?” the agent called after him.

“As far as I know, I’m the only genius-level repeat offender in the Midwest,” he said, turning around with a cocky grin plastered on his face.  “I think that’s a pretty awesome accomplishment.”

The old man shook his head.  “You’ve got potential, Jim.  You’re your father’s son.”

“No,” he said.  “No, I’m not.  See, remember at the beginning of the conversation when I said my father was dead?  I’m alive.  And I like being alive.  So have fun trying to save the world, but count me out.”

 

“We leave at 8 AM,” the man said to his back as he left.  “Cedar Rapids airport.  Think it over.  Your father saved hundreds of lives in his two years at HD.  I dare you to do better.”

 

There hadn’t been that much to think over when Jim actually thought it over.  Being alive was great, but it was more like he was existing.  He was having fun while he did it, but that was all it really was.  He wasn’t really _doing_ anything.  His family had never been much of a family.  It wasn’t like he’d be leaving behind much.  His mom and brother had both left Riverside already anyway.  Jim wasn’t sure what he was still doing there.  At least this way there was no one to say goodbye to.

He stared up at the dark sky, thoughts mixing with the stars.  The roof of his apartment building was cool on his back, even through his shirt and jacket.  October in Iowa at 3 AM wasn’t exactly warm.  He remembered learning in school about Sam and Dean Winchester and their angel Castiel.  “Where are the angels now?” he muttered at the sky.  He didn’t find it surprising that they’d given up on Earth.

School really started to get under his skin after the HD had broken off from the CIA and become its own agency.  The CIA had kept most information unavailable to the public, but after the two had separated, the HD was no longer as secretive.  Word about George Kirk and his outstanding sacrifice got out and suddenly that much more was expected of Jim—or rather, he was that much more of a disappointment when he wasn’t the shining star of every class.  His test scores said he was anything but stupid, but he didn’t care enough to keep his grades up and he was sick of the expectations others had for him—most of which were unrealistically high for a kid in seventh grade.  The world was already a dark place before he’d been born, and he’d been born in a shadow and grew up in the shadow of his father’s legacy. 

What did he have to lose?

 

Jim showed up to the Cedar Rapids airport at 8:00 on the dot with nothing but the clothes on his back.  He tossed the keys to his bike at some guy in the parking lot that paid it a compliment.

The man from the bar stepped out of the plane to welcome him, a grin dancing just behind his eyes.

“I didn’t get your name last night.”

“Christopher Pike.  Glad you could make it, son.”

“I don’t back out of a dare, Christopher Pike,” Jim said with a cocky grin similar to but different from the one last night.

Climbing aboard the plane and walking down the aisle, he got a glimpse of Cupcake and shot him a smile.  The skin was split above his eye and his hand was wrapped, and that was enough to satisfy Jim.  He barely even remembered why the fight had started in the first place.

He took an empty seat and seconds later a man was led out from the back of the plane.  Jim didn’t catch the beginning of the argument between him and the flight attendant, but the guy—a few years older than Jim—was erratically gesticulating and saying something about how he’d had a perfectly fine seat in the bathroom.

“Sir, you can either have a seat or I will make you sit down.”

The man stared at her for a brief moment, trying to get a gage on how serious she was.  “Alright, fine,” he said bitterly, taking the nearest seat—one beside Jim.  “I may throw up on you,” he warned outright.

“I think these things are pretty safe,” Jim said as he buckled his seatbelt for takeoff.

“Safe,” he scoffed.  “One crack in the hull and oxygen runs out, we could all be sucked out and fall to our deaths.  ‘Just a little turbulence’ isn’t always just a little turbulence.  Tell me again how safe planes are when we’re falling thousands of feet because the engines unexpectedly failed.”

“Well, I hate to break this to you, but joining HD means frequent flying.”

“Yeah, well, I got nowhere else to go.  The ex-wife took the whole damn planet in the divorce.  All I got left is my bones.”

He pulled a flask from his pocket, took a swig, and offered it to Jim.  Jim accepted, then passed it back to him.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Jim Kirk.  You?”

“McCoy.  Leonard McCoy.”

It wasn’t like there were no other jobs that didn’t require frequent flying, but Kirk didn’t ask _why HD,_ because the answer probably wasn’t a great conversation topic to delve into with someone he’d just met.

“So, uh, you’re from down south?”

 

San Francisco, California  
October 3, 2042

 

Walking off the flight two hours later, Jim thought that he liked Bones.  He liked his grumpy old man exterior, he liked the challenge it represented, and he’d already given the guy a nickname.

He looked to the sky, taking in the new surroundings and the California air.  San Francisco.  He’d never have thought he’d ever end up here.  It struck him that this was where his parents had met, but it didn’t affect him like it maybe should have.  Just as the thought registered, it was gone.  He’d never known his father, and all he knew of his mother was what she taught him and his brother about the supernatural.  Beyond that, she’d never really been there, not for Jim or his brother.  Their step-dad, Frank, had been, but he’d been there with nothing but his fists.  But his anger had been better than the absence of emotion Winona had shown, in some ways.

“You ever been to California, Bones?”

“Did you not hear what I said two hours ago about flying?”

“The air’s different here.”

“Yeah, it’s the pollution.”

“They’re working on reducing it,” Jim said, “your lily lungs will be fine.”

“Welcome to HDHQ,” Pike said, getting off the plane last.  “Your group is the last of the new recruits to arrive.  Others have been here for up to a month.  When you walk in, you’ll be given room assignments.  You’ll be bunking with one other person.  If a problem with your bunkmate arises, you talk to the housing department.  You’ll find your room, go to lunch, and then there will be a tour of HQ.  During the tour, there will be a stop where your measurements are taken.  Your things will be in your rooms when you get back, and training clothes should be brought to you as well.  The rest of the weekend is yours, but on Monday training begins, and there won’t be weekends after that.  Head on in.”

As the group made their way to the bunking area, Jim thought maybe this was what college was like.  God knew it would be the closest he’d ever get.  He scanned the doors they passed, looking for the room number printed on the paper in his hand.

“This is where I get off,” he said when he spotted it.  “See ya later, Bones.”

Bones gave him an eyebrow raise that probably meant he thought Jim was a little weird and _yeah, okay, kid, if you say so_ , but Jim was looking forward to making that guy laugh a little.

He took two steps into the room, and he immediately knew that this was not going to work out.  Right away, he could foresee a million different problems arising.  Already in the room was his good friend Cupcake.

“No,” the big guy said, pointing to the door.  “Get out.”

“No problem,” Jim said with a grin, and left faster than he’d arrived.  He found someone with an HD insignia and told them he was going to need a new room.

“What’s wrong with your current assignment?”

“We have a bit of a history.”

The guy rolled his eyes.  “Why don’t you see if you can find somebody to switch with.  It’ll save me a whole lot of hassle.”

 

“Number one, don’t touch my things.  Number two, I expect quiet times.  Number three, the room stays clean.”

Jim grinned at Bones.  “Aye-aye, Captain.”

Bones rolled his eyes.  “I’m going to live to regret this,” he muttered.

“Time for lunch!” someone announced from the hall.

“Come one,” Jim said.  “Time to find out if the food here is any good.”

On the way to the cafeteria, Jim found the guy from earlier and told him who he’d switched rooms with.

Jim managed to drag Bones to a table with a considerable amount of people—the main thing that had drawn him being the dark-skinned beauty.  Jim slid in on her unoccupied side, and Bones beside him.

She cast him a dubious glance and said nothing.  Jim wasn’t discouraged.

“Hi,” he said.  “Jim Kirk.”

She gave him a tolerating smile, withholding her name.  “Did you arrive with today’s group?”

“Yep.  Spur of the moment decision.  San Francisco sounded better than staying in Iowa.”

“I bet you make a lot of last minute decisions.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing,” she said dismissively before gesturing to the rest of the table and introducing everyone.  Her roommate, Gaila, sent him a promising smile, and the guy on the other side of Miss Mystery continually managed to look like he had a stick shoved way up his ass.

“And whose your friend?” she asked Jim.

“You left out your name.  When you were giving introductions.”

“You can call me Uhura.”

“Uhura…isn’t that a last name?”

“Yes.  And your friend?”

“This is B—”

“McCoy,” Bones interrupted him.  It was as if he didn’t like Jim’s nickname for him.  “Unfortunate roommate of this kid.”

“Leonard, I’m hurt.”

“I think your ego will pull you through.”

“Have you been on the tour yet?” Gaila asked.

“Nope,” Jim said.  “I think that’s happening after lunch.  What do you people do for fun around here?”

“There’s not much to do _here_ ,” she said, “but sometimes we go out and walk around until we find a place that looks fun.”

“Does that happen often?”

“Occasionally.  Mostly everyone just wants to get a head-start on things since they’ve shortened the program so drastically.”

“Oh, it’s not that hard,” Jim said.  “Silver for werewolves, beheading for vampires, holy water for demons.  Just keep your head down, keep swinging, and don’t forget to salt n’ burn.”

“That can hardly be considered an effective method,” Spock said.  _So, he speaks,_ Jim thought.  “Not all supernatural creatures are killed by means of such simple methods.”

“Maybe not,” Jim said, “but that’s the gist of it.  The weirder, the rarer.  Cage ‘em and go from there.”

“Some are not easily contained.”

“Tell me about it,” Jim said, getting a mildly irritated by Spock’s tone.  “Leviathans are a real bitch.”

Someone at the table let a small gasp slip.

“A single Leviathan is hardly a problem compared to other things.  A pack of Hellhounds, for example.”

“Unless you’ve got a pair of glasses scorched in holy fire.  But why waste your time on Hellhounds when you could be stuck in a town where ninety-percent of the people are infected with Croatoan?”

“HD’s science department is working on a vaccine—”

“Oh, come on, there’s no vaccine for a demonic plague.”

“Sam Winchester survived infection, did he not?”

“Sam Winchester was a special case, and the _Supernatural_ series isn't a guaranteed first hand account.”

“Some would argue he was spared because of favor shown by Azazel, the demon—”

“I know who Azazel is, thank you very much.”

“And how is it that you already know so much, Jim Kirk?”

Maybe Jim was crazy, but he’d swear Spock put an emphasis on his last name.

“I could ask you the same thing, Spock-o.”

“Indeed.”

The two stared at one another over Uhura for an indeterminable amount of time.

“Alright, boys,” Gaila said eventually, clearing her throat.  “Let’s put it away.”

Uhura placed a hand on Spock’s arm before he finally looked away.

“A little friendly competition is good, right?” someone said nervously.

 

The tour was over, everyone was done for the day, and Jim was pacing the small room while Bones knelt on the floor, unpacking what few things he’d brought.

“Just who does that guy think he is?” Jim ranted.  “ _Oh, my name’s Spock, and I know more about everything than everyone.  Look at me with my big, stupid eyebrows._   What does he even know about facing a Leviathan?  Any monster can be hard to kill if it’s smart enough; they’re not all the same; they have personalities.  I bet he’s one of those dicks that only knows what they read in books.  He’s probably never even killed anything.”

Bones afforded him a glance away from his duffel bag.  “And you have?”

Jim paused to take a moment to really look at Bones.  Should he tell him?  All of HD would probably find out soon enough anyway.  Hell, he was pretty sure Spock already did.  “What do you know about George Kirk?”

“He’s one of the well-known heroes in hunting history.  Saved dozens of lives by blowing himself and Abaddon to bits.”

Jim snorted.  “Hero.  You know what’s not heroic?  Leaving your pregnant wife and kid behind.”

“What are you talking about?”

“George Kirk.  Jim Kirk.  Not a coincidence.”

“You mean—you’re George Kirk’s son?”

“The second.  They tend to leave his family out of the history books.  Not like that ever stopped people from finding out.”

“Does HD know?”

“Pike’s the one that recruited me.”

“Wait—so everything you were saying at lunch, that was all true?”

“Mostly.  I’ve never encountered a Hellhound.”

“But what you said about Croatoan—there was that town, Tarsus, that got infected—”

“Six survivors,” Jim said.  “Five residents, one visitor.  Guess who decided to run away from home at just the right time.”

“Good god, kid.  Will you even be able to pass your psych eval?”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.  I’ve gotten this far in life, and Pike sure thought I needed to join.”

“Why would you join?  After surviving that?”

Jim shrugged.  “Why wouldn’t I?  Maybe I’m lucky.”

Just then there was a knock at the door, and Jim answered.

“Kirk and McCoy?” someone in HD uniform asked.

“McCoy and Kirk,” Jim confirmed.

She grabbed two boxes off a trolley, handing them each to Jim.  “Training clothes,” she said.  “You’re expected to wear them for all physical aspects of the program.  Your times will be slid under your door this weekend.”

Jim barely said, “Got it,” before she was knocking at the next door.

He slid the box labelled, “McCoy, L.” over to Bones and opened his own.  Inside was a black zip-up hoodie, a gray tank top, two t-shirts (one black, one gray), and three pairs of sweatpants (two black, one gray).  Each piece of clothing had the HD insignia printed on it.

“Amazing variety,” Jim remarked.  “Hey, speaking of clothes,” he said after a beat, “can I borrow some for the night?”

“You literally just got a box full.”

“Aw, come on, I don’t want to have to do laundry before I even officially start the program.”

Bones rolled his eyes and shook his head.  “I’m already regretting this.”  But he pulled out a pair of plaid bottoms and a t-shirt that said “Ole Miss” and tossed them at Jim.

“University of Mississippi?”

“School of Medicine.”

“You’re a doctor.”

“You hear horror stories all the time about this place.  About people getting torn up, losing limbs, breaking things that should never even bend.  There’s not always time for them to get back to a safe house.  They’re always in need of hunters with medical experience.  Especially since they cut the medical training part of the program back to less than the bare minimum.”

“Do you know how to treat supernatural injuries?”

“Some.  I graduated before this was widely accepted public knowledge.”

“Maybe I can help you with that,” Jim said with a grin.  “Make it so everybody’ll want you on their team.”

“You’re awfully cocky, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” he grinned.


End file.
